Second-In-Command
by Stxr
Summary: Daughter of Dr Leonid Pavel, nuclear physicist, Daria Pavel leads a normal life util she is thrown into her father's work with masked man Bane and along the way meets his second-in-command, Barsad. Will she survive in a world of killers and danger? Set pre/during TDKR. Rated M for later chapters. This is a Barsad/OC story.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! New story here. This is basically a major rewrite of my last story so I hope you enjoy it and yeah, here goes.**

**Please let me know if you like/hate it because I kinda wanna know now whether it's worth continuing with this story – so please review!**

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Every day it was the same for Daria. Wake up, work, eat, sleep. Long story short, Daria's life was dull. Which was surprising seeing as she lived in Gotham City, home to dark, vigilante, Batman and had played theatre so some of the country's most notorious criminals – such as the Joker and of course, the mob.

She had lived alone since she was 17, after her mom died. Her mother had been a true Gothamite but after she had married Daria's father – a Russian scientist – they had lived in Russia for most of Daria's life. Just after her tenth birthday her mother took her away from Russia and her father and moved back to Gotham and Daria hadn't seen her father since then. But a few years later, Daria's mother got cancer and Daria was left alone. She didn't mind being alone but she missed her mother.

She lived a lonely life, in the Narrows and working the night shift at one of the bars in downtown Gotham had taught her well how to stay out of trouble. At around 3am she would return to the dull, grey apartment building she called home. Not in the 2 years that she had lived there had she ever spoken to a single other resident. She hated the hours she worked, but after two years of it, she got used to going to sleep at 4am and waking up exactly 12 hours later.

The shrill beep of her alarm shocked Daria out of a deep sleep at 4pm. And when she groggily fumbled for the off button and after the high-pitched beeping had ceased to be, she stretched up and out of bed feeling very indifferent, as always, about the coming day.

"Jesus Christ." She grumbled to herself as she slumped towards the bathroom in nothing but her panties and a big t-shirt that hung past mid-thigh. She stripped off her nightwear and turned the shower on before returning to the sink to brush her teeth whilst the water warmed up. The lack of heating in her apartment sent shivers over skin as she continued to brush her teeth. Daria made her way over to the shower and stepped under the now hot water and breathed a sigh of relief, as the hot water ran down over her hair and body. She reached for her shampoo and took time to properly wash and rinse her hair. Stepping out of the shower, she dried her body and began to brush through her hair before walking over to the mirror. She looked over her reflection in the full-length mirror. She had never considered herself to be outstandingly beautiful; she wasn't a particularly vain person. She stood at a height of 5'3", was a size 4, a C-cup and had a distinct lack of notable assets to be proud of. Her attention turned to her face; she didn't have striking features like some girls had. She hated the colour of her eyes; they were dark brown, so dark that they could easily be mistaken for black. She had a heart-shaped face, with subtle cheekbones and plump lips. Her eyelashes were thick but short and she had a tanned complexion. She didn't remember all that much about her father, other than that he was always working but she did know that he was of middle-eastern descent – which she supposed was the reasoning behind her slightly exotic looks. The one quality she was proud of was her hair; it was long and wavy and reached to the middle of her back in dark brown tresses.

She began applying her make up: foundation, powder, bronzer, smoky grey eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara and her favourite perfume. If there was anything her mum had taught her, it was how to look good. Her mum had always looked beautiful and glamorous, even if she nowhere fancy to go, she would always be wearing makeup and perfume. She proceeded to put on some slightly sheer black tights, distressed black denim shorts and a silver and black tank top as well as her patent black Doc Martens. Her job at Exotica – one of Gotham's most well-known nightclubs – required her to dress in something 'easy on the eye'. It just meant that men tipped a little bit more if you handed their drinks to them wearing something hot. She didn't mind being a bargirl but the men could sometimes get a little out of hand. She grabbed her parka and headed outside to her car. She usually left for work just after 5pm and as her shift started at 6pm it gave her a good amount of time to set up before the usual first round of partyers would drop in ordering their usual 10 shots and 10 beers or whatever girly, fruity cocktail they could come up with. If there was one thing Daria hated about her job it was the uptight, bitchy little sluts who came to the bar and stuck their noses up at her just because of what side of the bar she was standing on.

"Hey, Kelly," said Daria as she greeted her fellow barmaid.

"Hey, Daria, what's up?" replied Kelly. Kelly was most guys' definition of an ideal girlfriend. She was blonde, bubbly and confident – with very noticeable assets.

"Nothing much, as per usual."

"Ey, don't worry, you'll find Prince Charming one day. And he'll whisk you away from the evil land of Gotham on his noble steed to a land far, far away and you'll never have to serve drinks to lairy old men ever again!" Laughed Kelly in her All-American cheerleader voice.

"Hahaha, well I certainly hope so, Kel." Joked back Daria.

There were three of them working the bar that night and the night was going well, as it always did on a Saturday night, and people were tipping heavily. Daria was busy pouring out 12 shots of tequila when she heard a voice to her left.

"I'll be with you in a second, sweetie," she half-yelled.

She handed the group of party girls their shots and took their money before turning to the man who had called her.

"Yes, hon, how can I help you?" She asked, raising her eyes to his face and stopping short.

This guy was…**hot**. There was no other word for it. He had lightly tanned skin, blue-grey eyes and short dark hair. And in the dim light of the bar she could see clearly his handsome chiseled face.

"Hey…hey...you there? I said can I get three Coronas?" His voice brought her back to Earth.

"Uh, yeah, sure, um," She felt hot and flustered and struggled to regain her composure. She ducked down and retrieved three bottles of beer before setting them on the counter and telling him how much they were.

He handed her a $20 bill and told her to 'keep the change' before giving her a smile and heading back to the main part of the bar with the beers in hand.

The night went on and after a shot with Kelly and the other bargirl Sophie, she began to feel relaxed and confident, flirting with the customers and swaying her hips to the music. After about an hour, the man from earlier made another appearance on her side of the bar.

"Well, hey," she said with as much confidence as she could manage. "You here for more beers I take it?" This time taking an opportunity to look at what he was wearing. He had a dark, fitted tshirt on and from what she could tell, dark jeans too. He had a black jacket in his hand and she noticed silver ID tags around his neck.

"No actually," he replied, in an accent Daria couldn't quite place. Was it Irish? Scottish? European? At a guess she'd make a bet on European.

"Well then, what can I help you with, sugar?" she said, flirtatiously.

"Well, my friends are about to leave and the person I'm meeting here won't be here for a while so I thought what better way to kill time than to talk to the extremely pretty barmaid," he said, smiling.

"Ahh , well, then, what's your name?"

"Barsad. Barsad Nazarenko."

"_Nazarenko_? That's an interesting name. Whereabouts are you from?"

"I was born in Ukraine but I grew up mainly in South Africa, before moving to South America."

"Ahh, so you're a man of the world, huh?" Daria said, as she gave two beers to a guy on Barsad's left and charged him.

"You could say that…" He said, with a smile. "Tell me about you, what's your name?"

"Daria. Daria Pavel."

"And where are you from_ Miss_ Daria Pavel?"

"I was born in Russia but my mom and I moved here when I was ten. She was born here, you see. I've lived here for nine years."

"So, you're 19 then?"

"Hey, Daria!" shouted Kelly from across the bar, "you can take your break now."

"Cool, thanks, Kel!" replied Daria, turning her attention back to the man in front of her.

"Yup," she said.

"That's pretty young to be working here in a seedy bar full of creepy men," he said, obviously joking. "Does your mother know that you're out?"

"My mother," she said, looking him in the eye, "is dead."

Barsad looking surprised, opened and closed his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Daria replied, with a small smile. "It was two years ago. Anyway, tell me more about you." She said, changing the subject.

"Me? Well I-" he was suddenly interrupted by the vibrating of his phone. He looked down at the caller ID, "Sorry, I'd better take this outside."

"Okay," she said. Watching as he exited the bar, holding his phone to his ear.

A whole hour had passed and Barsad still hadn't returned and it was nearing the end of Daria's shift.

"Boy, I sure am glad we only have to do 3 nights a week of this." sighed Kelly, walking over to Daria.

"Ugh, I know right, doing every Tuesday, Friday and Saturday is plenty enough for me."

"Amen to that," said Kelly, mixing some complicated and fruity cocktail for a supermodel wannabe who was slurring her words and rolling her eyes at everyone. "Hey, Dar, where's the cute guy you were talking to earlier?"

"I dunno, Kel, he kinda rushed off. OH well, he was kinda outta my league anyway…"

"Girl, are you serious, I practically just planned your wedding right there and then!"

Daria laughed it off and told Kelly not to worry about it because she wasn't really bothered – not really. _Why should he should he have said goodbye anyway? I'm just another girl to guys like him_, she thought to herself.

At last, her shift ended just before 3am and she was free to go. After helping pack up and saying goodbye to everyone, including her slightly lewd boss, Joey, she walked quickly to her car and drove home. And when she got home she stripped off and went straight to bed, dreaming of men with smoky blue eyes and exotic accents.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a whole week since Daria had seen Barsad at the bar on that Saturday and she soon realised the unlikelihood of ever seeing him again and therefore gave up on any hope of a romantic encounter with him. On Saturday evening as she was driving to Exotica, she thought of how different she was to the girls she served at the bar. She wasn't the type to go out partying every night and sleep with random men – hell, she'd never even gotten past first base with a guy! She remembered about some of the guys at Gotham High who would try and sneak around with her behind the bleachers after football matches she'd go to – not because she cheered at them or anything, although she always had been a gymnast; it was just that cheerleading, to Daria, seemed so pretentious. She preferred dance: ballet, modern, contemporary. She loved dance, dance was in her blood and she had attended classes twice a week up until her mom's death. Everything stopped after her mom died, she stopped going to school and dance in order to get a job. She got work at shitty cafes and newsagents on and off for a year before she found some weird sense of solace in Joey's bar and after that she got a permanent place there working three nights a week with decent pay.

She pulled up outside the bar and went inside. Tonight, she'd opted for tight black disco pants, a dark red v-neck top and her Doc Martens. She felt good tonight and had put on a shade of lipstick that matched her top. She nodded at the bouncers who were already on duty and headed to the bar, greeting her workmates as she went. The night passed in a dim-lit and noisy blur and it was what Daria considered a typical night, with at least four men being thrown out for starting a fight and two gold-digger-looking skanks bitch-fighting in the middle of the dance floor, trying to claw each other's eyes out or rip out each other's platinum bleached blonde hair extensions and them too, being thrown out. Daria sighed as she pulled up outside her apartment block. _I kinda wished he'd been there tonight,_ she thought to herself. Barsad had been the only guy in a very long time to spark up even the most remote hint of interest in Daria._ Whatever,_ she thought.

On Monday morning, at around 10am, Daria woke up and walked to her refrigerator before looking inside and mumbling, "Oh great, now I need to go to the frickin' store…" considering how the contents of her fridge consisted of some yogurt, a couple of Coronas and a pack of bacon. She hastily put on some black jeans and grey sweatshirt before grabbing her keys and wallet and walking to the store. She returned an hour later and as she began unloading her groceries she stopped short and stared at the contents of her fridge.

_I swear there were two bottles of beer in this fridge, what the-,_ she thought, frowning at the only bottle of beer left in her fridge._ Whatever, maybe I'm still half asleep. Blame it on my fucked up sleeping pattern, I guess._

On Tuesday evening at 5pm, she once again set out to Exotica in her car, wearing black leggings and a silver scalloped vest top with earrings to match and once again, her Doc Martens.

"Hey, doll, you look hot tonight," winked Kelly.

"Aw, Kel, why thank you," Daria replied putting on a southern American accents and pretending to blush.

"Hoping to score anyone's number tonight?"

"You know me, Kel, terminally single and will probably end up alone with 15 cats."

"Don't be silly, good looking gal like you will find your prince charming, someone rich and handsome, y'know like Bruce Wayne."

"Kelly, are you kidding, Bruce Wayne hasn't been seen in public for what – six? Seven years?"

Kelly smiled and shrugged, continuing to chew her gum, "Maybe he's not your type. I know who is though…the cutie patootie from last week, huh?"

"Oh my- Kelly, will you stop going on about that guy, one: he is not my type! And two: I haven't seen him since, so there – he's not into me."

"Blah blah blah, all I here is denial," Kelly winked, walking over to the first couple of customers.

Daria sighed, exasperatedly and began taking the drinks orders of a group of young guys.

"That'll be $25 please."

The guy who paid for the drinks smiled at her and throughout the night, Daria noticed, was the only guy in his group to come and order the drinks. Two or three hours into her shift, he came over for the fourth time. He smiled shyly at her and asked her what time her shift ended.

"Around 2:30, why?" she asked flirtatiously. She didn't know him at all but she wanted to get that Barsad guy out of her head.

"Well, me and my friends are celebrating so maybe you wanna party with us after your shift?"

"Isn't it a little late," Daria laughed.

"Heyyy, it's never too late to party, c'mon, whaddya say?"

"Okay, sure, tell me ya name?"

"Andy. You?"

"Daria."

"Pretty name for the pretty girl with the pretty smile."

Daria laughed and Andy told her to come find him at the end of her shift. The night went on and secretly Daria was excited at the prospect of an actual nice guy taking an interest in her. At 2am there were only a handful of customers let in the bar and so Joey let her and Kelly off early, with Kelly offering to help clear up since she wanted Daria to go and have fun.

Daria spotted Andy in the corner and walking over she asked where his friends were.

"They're just outside getting a cab. Let's go," he said, placing his hand on her lower back and steering her out of the bar.

As soon as they were outside Daria noticed how there were no other guys outside getting a cab and suddenly Andy pushed her into the alleyway and before Daria could protest and much less scream out he lunged at her covering her mouth with his and slobbily kissing her whilst he held her arms pressed firmly against the brick wall of the alleyway behind her. His hands began to slip lower and he was soon roughly grabbing at her ass and sliding a hand underneath her top. She tried to push at his chest but it was no use as he had at least fifty pounds on her. She began squirming and he finally took his mouth off of hers and just as she was about to scream out he clamped his sweaty, meaty hand over her mouth. Her eyes wide and dilated with fear began to tear up.

"Don't scream or so help me I will beat the shit out of you, you got that?" Andy breathed in her ear.

He slowly released her mouth and she began to plead in a desperate whisper, "Just let me go please, I won't scream, I won't tell anyone, please, please, just let me go, please, don't hurt me, oh god no, please don't rape me, please…" tears began to fall from her eyes.

"Bitch, shut the fuck up," Andy said harshly as he closed one hand around her neck.

Daria daringly kneed him in the balls causing him to double over and release her from his grip and she began to stumble towards the entrance to the alleyway before he regained his composure and grabbed her hair, turning her around to face him before smacking her right across her face. She screamed out as his hand collided with her face and as she fell to the floor she heard two gunshots.

She expected to feel the pain and then the blood but soon realised that she didn't recall him ever having a gun. Instead of standing up she stayed down and hoped that whoever had fired the shots wouldn't shoot at her. Suddenly she heard voices and suddenly found herself back inside the club with someone shoving an ice pack on her now throbbing cheek.

"Daria? Daria? Oh my god, are you okay?!" she heard the frantic voice of Kelly. "We heard a scream and then gunshot and shit oh my god, I' so glad you're not hurt!" Kelly grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. In the background she could hear Joey phoning 911.

She recounted what had happened and as the police arrived she retold the story again before the police, after much argument, allowed her to drive herself home. The swelling had gone down immensely and her cheek, although red, wasn't that damaged.

She paused outside her front door and noticed, as she tried several times to push the key into the lock, that her hands were shaking.

"Shit," she grumbled to herself, and walking into her apartment.

She fumbled for the light switch and what she found in front of her caused her tremors to still.

In the middle of her apartment was a man. A man holding a _fucking gun._ She was stunned into silence as she looked at his dark combat boots and dark cargo pants. He wore a dark jacket and a red neck tie or scarf. It was him. _Barsad_.

"Well, aren't you going to offer me a drink?" he asked with a smirk.

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**_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_**

Please review, it would mean a lot to me, I don't usually actually write fanfiction so I'm not sure how I'm doing, so dome feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!


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